Many, many people claim they were at game 5 of the Mariners-Yankees ALDS. I was actually there, sitting in the deepest right-field bleachers. I remember that I’d been out of town for several weeks; I had to rush to the Kingdome to get there on time, and I really wasn’t in the mood for baseball when the game started. My feelings built, of course, pitch by pitch. In the top of the ninth, Randy Johnson strode in from the bullpen and shut down a Yankee rally, but he yielded a run in the eleventh. Then, in the bottom of the eleventh, Cora bunted, Griffey singled, and Edgar doubled down the line. I yelled louder and longer than I’ve ever yelled in my life. I gave everyone around me death-grip bearhugs. I cried, unashamedly, and couldn’t stop crying. I stayed for at least an hour after the game, just yelling in and for joy, and was hoarse for a week. It’s one of the happiest memories of my spectating life, perhaps of my life, and I get chills even thinking about it now.
By David Shields